Love's Nourishment
by Astonishment
Summary: What if the Darcy's used poetry to nourish their love? (One Shot)


**Love's Nourishment**

**Summary: **What if the Darcy's used poetry to nourish their love? (One Shot)

**Disclaimer:** Darcy and Elizabeth are the creation of Jane Austen.

**Jane Austen Quote:** "I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"  
>"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.<br>"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away." (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 9)

**Fluff Warning:** Proceed at your own risk!

* * *

><p>On a cold winter night, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy retired to their respective chambers and were dressed in their night clothes by their respective servants. When Darcy entered the mistress' chamber, he quickly snuffed the bed candle and climbed into bed next to his wife. Their evening routine was well established and they gave themselves over to the benefits of married life. As he attempted to remove his wife's nightgown, she grasped his insistent hands and asked: "Do you love me?"<p>

He smiled; it was a game they played.

**~~oo~~**

On their wedding night in London, Darcy was eager to spend his first night with Elizabeth, the woman of his dreams and the joy of his heart.

Elizabeth however was beset with anxiety, having endured her Mama's brief but ominous description of the marriage bed. That morning, Mrs. Bennet had come to Elizabeth's chamber to relay that long-expected and highly-dreaded information and had left her daughter in a state of fear: "You must do your duty… submit to his every desire… be brave… all married women are forced to endure such treatment… for the sake of the family… most unpleasant… pain… bleeding…"

Elizabeth's mind had reeled in the aftermath of that gloom-filled depiction of her wedding night and could not help but worry. However, her Aunt Gardiner had noticed her bewilderment soon after the message was delivered and whispered to her niece: "If your husband loves you, you shall have nothing whatsoever to fear."

So that night, as Darcy untied the belt of her dressing gown, she gazed into his eyes and asked: "Do you love me?"

He noticed her cautious hesitation and was pleased to offer his assurances:

"O my Luve's like a red, red rose  
>That's newly sprung in June;<br>O my Luve's like the melodie  
>That's sweetly play'd in tune.<p>

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
>So deep in luve am I:<br>And I will luve thee still, my dear,  
>Till a' the seas gang dry:<p>

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,  
>And the rocks melt wi' the sun:<br>I will luve thee still, my dear,  
>While the sands o' life shall run.<p>

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!  
>And fare-thee-weel, a while!<br>And I will come again, my Luve,  
>Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!" (1)<p>

Elizabeth melted into his arms, threw aside every hesitation and placed all her trust in her new husband.

Afterwards, he wondered about her hesitation: "Did someone advise you of the wedding night?" he asked.

"Oh dear! My Mama gave me the most mortifying account! However, I am extremely gratified to learn that she was quite mistaken," she replied with a tender kiss. "If this is what I shall be forced to endure, I shall gladly endure it for the sake of the family," she told him with a smile.

He was pleased to oblige her.

The following days and weeks had been a whirlwind of holiday balls and theater and opera attendance, then the two day journey to Pemberley, the preparation for the holidays, the arrival of the Gardiners, and the celebration of the holidays. After their guests had taken their leave, the newlyweds reestablished their evening routine and were finally free to enjoy the new-found serenity and privacy of their home.

**~~oo~~**

One night as the snow gently fell outside, the fire blazed in the fireplace. Elizabeth gazed into her husband's eyes and asked: "Do you love me?" with a merry twinkle in her eyes.

He smiled, recalling the poem he had recited to his lovely bride on that first night of their marriage.

"O my Luve's like a red, red rose" he began.

"Oh no, William!" she interrupted. "That shall never do! You have already recited that poem! Do you know no others?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

"Of course, my Love," he replied, kissing her neck. Noticing her expectant smile, he continued:

"How Love came in, I do not know,  
>Whether by th' eye, or eare, or no:<br>Or whether with the soule it came  
>(At first) infused with the same:<br>Whether in part 'tis here or there,  
>Or, like the soule, whole every where:<br>This troubles me: but as I well  
>As any other, this can tell;<br>That when from hence she does depart,  
>The out-let then is from the heart." (2)<p>

Afterwards, she remarked how appropriate the poem was for him. "It reminds me of our conversation when we were first betrothed. I asked you when you first fell in love with me; do you recall?" she asked.

Of course, he did recall that he had fallen in love with her before he was even fully aware of it: "That is why I selected the poem, my Love," he replied.

**~~oo~~**

The scene was repeated on the following night and Darcy readily recited a love poem for his lovely wife:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
>Thou art more lovely and more temperate.<br>Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
>And summer's lease hath all too short a date.<br>Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
>And often is his gold complexion dimmed;<br>And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
>By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;<br>But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
>Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,<br>Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,  
>When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.<br>So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
>So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." (3)<p>

Afterwards, she sighed in his arms: "What a romantic you are, William!" she observed with delight.

"If I am a romantic, then you are my muse, my lovely Lizzy," he replied.

**~~oo~~**

The following night, however, he folded her into his arms and before she opened her lips to speak, he asked her: "Do you love me?"

She was caught completely unaware and was forced to delve deep into her memory to recall a suitable poem:

"And in Life's noisiest hour,  
>There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,<br>The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.  
>You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within ;<br>And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart  
>Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulses beat ;<br>You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,  
>Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve<br>On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.  
>And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,<br>How oft ! I bless the Lot, that made me love you." (4)

Afterwards, he held her in his arms and they watched the fire burn in the fireplace. "Thank you, my Love," he said. "I look forward to hearing many more poems from my lovely bride."

**~~oo~~**

After breakfast the next morning, Darcy found his bride searching the shelves of the library. "May I assist you, my Lizzy?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Having no desire to divulge the object of her search, she refused his assistance; instead, she banished him from the library: "Surely there must be some business in your study that requires your immediate attention, is there not?" she suggested with an arch smile. He retired to the study, leaving her to her own devices without the slightest doubt of her intentions. She quickly discovered the poetry section and settled in with a book.

That evening when they retired to their chambers, she made no effort to ask him that familiar question and he took this as his queue to pose the question himself: "Do you love me?" he asked, with a tender smile.

She offered that sparkling smile that he so adored and recited the poem that she had committed to memory:

"Is it to love, to fix the tender gaze,  
>To hide the timid blush, and steal away;<br>To shun the busy world, and waste the day  
>In some rude mountain's solitary maze?<br>Is it to chant one name in ceaseless lays,  
>To hear no words that other tongues can say,<br>To watch the pale moon's melancholy ray,  
>To chide in fondness, and in folly praise?<br>Is it to pour th' involuntary sigh,  
>To dream of bliss, and wake new pangs to prove;<br>To talk, in fancy, with the speaking eye,  
>Then start with jealousy, and wildly rove;<br>Is it to loathe the light, and wish to die?  
>For these I feel,—and feel that they are Love." (5)<p>

Afterwards, Darcy folded his wife into his arms and teased her: "Did you find what you were looking for in the library, my Sweet?" he asked her.

"Indeed, I found the selection quite extensive," she replied.

"Yes, it is the work of many generations," he replied.

**~~oo~~**

The next day, while Elizabeth was attending to the plans for the evening meal with the housekeeper, Darcy stole into the library to peruse that work of many generations for a particular volume. Having located the object of his search, he spirited it away to the solitude of his study where he immersed himself in the pages, searching for the poem most fitting for the occasion. That evening, he was pleased to recite it:

"Come live with me and be my love,  
>And we will all the pleasures prove<br>That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,  
>Woods, or steepy mountain yields.<br>And we will sit upon rocks,  
>Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,<br>By shallow rivers to whose falls  
>Melodious birds sing madrigals.<p>

And I will make thee beds of roses  
>And a thousand fragrant poises,<br>A cap of flowers, and a kirtle  
>Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;<p>

A gown made of the finest wool  
>Which from our pretty lambs we pull;<br>Fair lined slippers for the cold,  
>With buckles of the purest gold;<p>

A belt of straw and ivy buds,  
>With coral clasps and amber studs;<br>And if these pleasures may thee move,  
>Come live with me, and be my love.<p>

The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing  
>For thy delight each May morning:<br>If these delights thy mind may move,  
>Then live with me and be my love. (6)<p>

Afterwards, when they were content in each other's arms, he closed his eyes and breathed in her lavender scent: "I must thank my ancestors for having the foresight to amass such a bountiful collection," he observed.

"Indeed, it has been of infinite use," she agreed.

**~~oo~~**

From the next day onward, no effort was made to conceal the intent of their visits to the library; in fact, they met there every afternoon for tea and perused the collection of their forefathers.

As soon as her husband snuffed the candle that evening, Elizabeth recited her poem:

"My (lover's) eyes are nothing like the sun;  
>Coral is far more red than (his) lips' red:<br>If snow be white, why then (his) breasts are dun;"

He grinned at her liberal adaptation of the familiar sonnet: "You flatter me, my dearest wife," he told her.

"If hairs be wires, black wires grow on (his) head.  
>I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,<br>But no such roses see I in (his) cheeks;  
>And in some perfumes is there more delight<br>Than in the breath that from my (lover) reeks.  
>I love to hear (him) speak, yet well I know<br>That music hath a far more pleasing sound.  
>I grant I never saw a (god) go:<br>My (lover), when (he) walks, treads on the ground.  
>And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare<br>As any (he) belied with false compare." (7)

Afterwards, she was pleased that he had accepted her teasing nature: "You know, of course, that you are the most handsome man of my acquaintance," she told him as they snuggled beneath the blankets.

He kissed her hair: "Am I handsome enough to tempt you?" he asked.

"Most definitely."

**~~oo~~**

One night, after Darcy joined his wife in her chamber, he closed the door behind him and immediately began reciting his selection for the evening:

"She was a phantom of delight  
>When first she gleamed upon my sight;<br>A lovely Apparition, sent  
>To be a moment's ornament;<br>Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;  
>Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;<br>But all things else about her drawn  
>From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;<br>A dancing Shape, an Image gay,  
>To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.<p>

I saw her upon a nearer view,  
>A Spirit, yet a Woman too!<br>Her household motions light and free,  
>And steps of virgin liberty;<br>A countenance in which did meet  
>Sweet records, promises as sweet;<br>A Creature not too bright or good  
>For human nature's daily food;<br>For transient sorrows, simple wiles,  
>Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.<p>

And now I see with eye serene  
>The very pulse of the machine;<br>A Being breathing thoughtful breath,  
>A Traveler between life and death;<br>The reason firm, the temperate will,  
>Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;<br>A perfect Woman, nobly planned,  
>To warm, to comfort, and command;<br>And yet a Spirit still, and bright,  
>With something of angelic light." (8)<p>

Their game continued on, with each one vying to be the first one to recite their poem.

**~~oo~~**

One night, Elizabeth had a very special poem to recite to her husband and was impatient to do so. He noticed her jubilant demeanor and asked their special question: "Do you love me?"

"Bah, Bah black Sheep,  
>Have you any Wool?<br>Yes merry have I,  
>Three Bags full."<p>

"Why are you reciting a child's poem?" he asked in confusion.

She took hold of his hand, placed it on her abdomen and continued:

"One for my master,  
>One for my Dame,<br>One for the little Boy  
>That lives down the lane." (9)<p>

He gazed into her eyes with bewilderment. She watched as the dawn of understanding slowly graced his countenance and forced him into speechlessness. This was a temporary condition which in no way prevented him from thanking her for making him the happiest of men.

**~~THE END~~**

(1) "_A Red, Red Rose_", Robert Burns, (1794)

(2) "_Of Love_", Robert Herrick (1648)

(3) "_Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day_", Sonnet 18, William Shakespeare (1609)

(4) "_The Presence of Love_", Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1807)

(5) "_Sonnet VI: Is It to Love_", Mary Darby Robinson (1791)

(6) "_The Passionate Shepherd to His Love_", Christopher Marlowe (1599)

(7) "_My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun_", William Shakespeare (1609) **Note:** With my apologies to the Bard, all parenthesis indicate changes to the original.

(8) "_She Was a Phantom of Delight_", William Wordsworth (1807)

(9) "_Bah, Bah Back Sheep_", Traditional English Nursery Rhyme (1744)


End file.
